I tugged on his beard, pulling his mouth against mine once more. He only gave me a short kiss before demanding I answer.
“The last night I was home, one of my dad’s coworkers had stumbled across a YouTube video of me playin’ at a punk club, which led them to my personal YouTube channel. Bein’ the dummy I was, I used my real name, otherwise I bet I could’ve convinced them it was some other girl on there who happened to look like me.”
“YouTube,” he muttered, like it was a curse.
I laughed. “What?”
His brow pinched, and his rough thumb moved back and forth on my jaw. “I tried to keep track of you, after you left, but you finally locked your social media down tight. I’d make a fool of myself, looking at whatever I could find. I never thought to look at YouTube. Damn.”
I laughed again. “Bless your heart. I envision you seein’ me playing with my drag band and huntin’ me down with a turtleneck to cover up my tits.”
Instead of the smile I expected, he gave me another one of his serious looks. “Nah, baby girl. I would’ve been there, watching over you, making sure no one tried to touch you. But I wouldn’t have tried to cover you up. I’m not about that. I have no desire to rein you in.”
Once more, the things he said stoked my inner fire, keeping me warm all over. I pressed my mouth to his, opening to him. I offered him my tongue, and he accepted, sliding his tongue over mine. We kept it slow, sensual, but my core flamed. Santi’s hands roamed over the hills of my body, testing the give of my soft places, fitting his fingers into the areas which seemed specially designed for him to hold.
At my urging, he took off his shirt, which wasn’t an easy feat in our confined space, but we were determined. My shirt stayed on, but pushed up under my chin until our chests were pressed flush.
We kissed and touched and explored in complete silence until it became clear to us both we needed more. Santiago nudged me onto my back and suckled my nipples until my hips were lifting in time with the suction of his mouth. My center grew so damp, it spread to my inner thighs and leggings. We’d been kissing for ages, touching for an eternity. He’d said things to me, things I needed to hear to feel closer to him, to let this pull between us draw us together without fighting. And now I needed to feel Santiago inside me, to complete the connection.
Hooking my thumbs on the waistband of my leggings, I wiggled and rocked until they were at my knees. Santiago had propped himself up, watching me struggle with a hungry almost-smile.
“What’s happening?” he whispered.
I paused, flushed, worried I’d overstepped. Worried he was shy, private, wouldn’t want to have sex with me feet from where our bandmates slept.
“I want to see if bunk sex is possible,” I said.
He dipped his head, burying his face between my breasts. “It is, Maeve.”
Oh.
Oh shit.
Of course he’d had bunk sex before. Why did I think we’d be experimenting together?
Embarrassed, I reached for my leggings, and started the struggle of pulling them back up. Santiago’s hand on mine halted me.
“Don’t pull away.” He freed my hands to cup my sex, and one long finger parted my folds, sliding through my slickness. “I’m not thinking about anyone else but you.”
My legs tried to fall open, but my leggings were a hindrance. Seeing this, Santiago took care of them, yanking them from my body and tossing them somewhere by my feet.
I turned from him to grab a condom I kept in my toiletry bag, and he crowded into my back, pressing his erection between my butt cheeks. A moan slipped out of me. He wasn’t even touching a particularly erogenous zone, but the feel of him hard behind me had me panting.
He pushed my hair off my neck and nestled his face alongside mine. Cupping my breasts, he dry humped me again and again. “You feel so fucking perfect. Gorgeous. I’m going to sink inside you and spend all night there. Make you go crazy. Make you come again and again.”
I shook with each word he said. For once, I didn’t doubt he wanted me, and I was done pushing him away.
“I want that.”
We were fumbling hands, hot skin, hastily discarded clothes. Protected, sheathed, Santiago entered me from behind. His hard body pressed against my soft one, finding home so deep inside me, it was hard to breathe.
His lips kissed, explored, worshipped every inch of skin he could get to. Our legs tangled, hands locked. He held me, and I let myself give into his hold. I was vulnerable, giving myself over. In his arms, I felt safe, sexy, cared for.
The bus slid down the road, and we slid into each other. Santiago was physically inside me, but my roots curled around his heart. I hoped he wanted me there. He hadn’t before, but something fundamental had changed. Before, we were two ships sharing the same harbor, but only momentarily. Now, we were moored together, riding the lapping waves.
“Maeve,” he whispered.
I threaded my fingers through his as heat climbed up my belly. “Santiago.”